***

(Intro)
Look at these spires, they still feel the Gothic vibe.
But the city is sick, and we slowly accept the bribe
Of helplessness. Listen to the sound of the square.
Who is the guest and who is the judge out there?

(Verse 1)
A new wave is drowning the cobbles of the Old World,
We accept all their dogmas, no questions unfurled.
They came with their rules to this fading old space,
They know no compromise, no borders to face.
They act like the masters, they use the right of might,
While we hide our graves and remove crosses from sight,
Just to not offend the cult from the burning zone.
The government opens the gates, afraid to look like stone,
Afraid to lose humanity. But it’s Stockholm syndrome instead:
They kicked you out on the street, taking over your bed.
In the streets of Brussels, on Parisian nights,
Every newcomer screams about his final rights.
They dictate their law, showing scorn for the host,
While the parliament writes reports, sleeping at their post.

(Chorus)
They came to take what they think is left alone,
Their righteous anger is a heavy stone.
The old power moans in the halls of defeat,
As their culture dissolves on a one-way street.
They will never blend in, their monolith is tight.
The old master’s banned, and he’s losing the fight.

(Verse 2)
Instead of protection, the bureaucrats talk from the screens,
Blaming the natives for their empty crib scenes.
They say: "You don't breed, your birthrate goes low,
So deal with the virus of a new passion-show,
A new population." The officials just smile:
"If you don't make babies, we'll replace you a while!"
What a mad panopticon! Progress turned to dust:
They give up the quarters because they feel that they must,
Forgiving the outrages, the patrols in the night,
That judge young girls for skirts under no street light.
This is no melting pot, it’s a clean battleground,
Where tolerance is a rope that is wrapping around.
We’re watching the end of a great theatre stage,
Where lions gave up, and actors manage the cage.

(Outro)
Europe grows old. They whisper: "Give us more birth."
But the cradle is gone, others rule on this earth.
The power turns off the lights, the story is done.
Those who arrived didn't come to blend with anyone.

(Chorus)
They came to take what they think is left alone,
Their righteous anger is a heavy stone.
The old power moans in the halls of defeat,
As their culture dissolves on a one-way street.
They will never blend in, their monolith is tight.
The old master’s banned, and he’s losing the fight.